Untitled for now
by LittleGiant
Summary: A modern retelling of the classic children's story The Secret Garden. Mary Lennox is a rich, spoiled New York City girl who goes to live with her uncle in Montana after her parents' sudden death. It is there that she at last learns how to live.
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

The chipmunk chatters from the safety of his tree, listening to the snapping twigs and crunching leaves that surely signal more humans walking through the forest. Below him, the man who always visits holds in his arms his lady love. The chipmunk remembers how she always liked to feed him acorns, and how the man and the woman would laugh and look at each other like nesting birds do in the spring.

Today, the man isn't laughing. The man is sobbing- coarse, broken sounds like a fox caught in a trap screaming to get free. His wife, the lady, lies unmoving in his lap, and a little further off in the clearing is a snapped branch. The chipmunk wants to climb down and scamper onto the man's shoulder, wants to hear him laugh again, but he stays in the tree, because he is afraid of the approaching footsteps. He allows only this man and this woman into his domain, and no other.

"Oh, Lily," the man keeps repeating, burying his face in the lady's hair and stroking her bulging stomach. "Oh, my sweet, dear Lily..."

Then the footsteps stop and two men appear in the clearing. "Sir?" says one. "We've come to... well, we've come to..."

The man's face twists into something ugly that the chipmunk has never seen before. "Leave me alone! Let me be! Let me die out here, with her... with _them_!"

"Sir, you know we can't. There must be a proper burial."

Nodding, the man sits up, and lets the other two men take his lady love. The chipmunk starts to bound down the tree, but he pulls back when he sees the cold, hard look settling over the man There is hatred on the man's face, and it frightens him even more than thunderstorms in the middle of dark, lonely nights.

"No one is to ever come here again," he says to his two men as they walk away. "Seal it off, as best as you can, and let no one come to this cursed place again."


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One:**

Mary Lennox curled up in her windowseat, watching the children walking home from school twenty floors below. She didn't have to go to school, because every time they tried to make her, she threw a fit until her parents relented and gave her a tutor. Her parents always relented, because they were too busy to care for her. They just wanted her to be quiet and stay out of the way so they could live their own lives without being reminded that they had an eleven year old daughter.

She had a tutor, two nannies (one during the week, and one during the weekends), and her own cook. None of them liked her. But she didn't like them either. They were like her parents, always giving Mary her own way so she wouldn't kick up a fuss. They always wanted her to do boring things, and they were always a little afraid of her.

Her parents were a lot afraid of her, although she didn't know why. Her father was some sort of executive at an advertising agency in the heart of the city, so he was hardly ever home, and her mother... well, she wasn't sure what exactly her mother did, but she always acted like she was very tired, even though she didn't work. Her mother never wanted to play with her, or talk to her, or even see her. She just wanted to go out and buy things from all of these fancy boutiques downtown.

In her own private suite she had every kind of book and toy, two computers, a huge television set, stacks of movies and video games. Even so, all of the time she was bored. So she would sit in her window, and watch all of the people going about their lives down on the street below. Her apartment was right across the street from Central Park, so there were always people coming in and out of the park. Sometimes she would see families, moms and dads and their children, laughing and talking together. Sometimes she would see a little boy, riding on his father's shoulders, or a little girl, holding her mother's hand, and she would wonder what that was like. Did other children really have parents who loved them and took care of them, instead of only nannies? Or was that just pretend, like the movies and television shows she watched? Sometimes she felt like everyone around her was just pretend, and she was the only one who was real.

Today while her mother was bringing in a bunch of bags filled with clothing and jewelry and all kinds of other probably expensive things, Mary slipped through the door and took the elevator downstairs. She walked out of her apartment building, crossed the street, and escaped into Central Park. She wasn't afraid to be there alone, even though she watched the news every night before she went to sleep. In fact, she liked it. She liked the trees, and the fresh air hitting her face. She liked the grass, and the flowers, and the great blue sky. Sometimes she would pick daisies and dandelions and stand them in the dirt, making gardens. No one paid her any mind.

An hour later she was back inside the apartment, and no one had even noticed she was gone. The kitchen counter was strewn with fussy paper bags with handles tied up with ribbons. She asked Rosalyn, her cook, where her mother was, and Rosalyn said, "Oh, she's resting. And she is not to be disturbed. There's a party tonight."

Mary grabbed a carrot from the pile Rosalyn was slicing and stuck out her tongue when Rosalyn protested. There was always a party on Friday night, and she was never invited. Mary was in a bad mood now, and in another minute everyone was going to know about it.

**000**

Later that night, Mary awoke to the sound of the door to her bedroom creaking open. A small sliver of light spilled in and she closed her eyes, pretending like she was still asleep. She was hoping that it was her mother, or her father, coming to say good night to her after the party. Maybe they had brought her something- a new stuffed animal, or a doll. Something to make up for her not being invited to the party again.

Instead, an unfamiliar male voice said, "A child? Mr. Lennox never made mention of a child."

"Oh, she's theirs all right," her weekend nanny, Juanita, whispered. "And a more unfortunate child you never met."

Mary frowned, because she wasn't unfortunate. She had everything. She had more money and more books and more toys and more things than Juanita had probably ever had in her entire life.

And then Juanita was shaking her awake. The man she didn't know turned on the light, causing her to blink and shield her eyes for a moment. She looked at the man and Juanita, standing beside her bed with serious faces, but she didn't care. "Leave me alone," she said. "I want to go back to sleep."

Instead, Juanita sat her up, and propped up a pillow behind her. "Mary," she said. "This is Mr. Thomas. He worked with your father."

"Hello, Mary," he said, kneeling beside her. He reached for her, like he wanted to pat her hand, but Mary pulled away. She didn't like to be touched.

Juanita cleared her throat, and exchanged glances with Mr. Thomas. "Mary, Mr. Thomas is here because... well... because..."

"Your parents were killed in an accident tonight on the way home from the party," Mr. Thomas said. "I stopped by to let the help know, and they told me about you. No one knew about you, Mary. We're not sure what will happen to you."

Mary thought for a moment. Although Juanita's eyes were wet with tears, and even Mr. Thomas looked a little shaken, she couldn't make herself feel anything about the news of her parents' sudden death. She didn't know them, and they didn't know her. So how could she feel sad, when they were like strangers to her?

"Can't I just live here by myself?" she asked.

Mr. Thomas gaped at her. "Don't you care?" he asked. "Your parents are gone."

"No," Mary said, lying back down and closing her eyes, which was their hint to get out of her room now before things got even worse. "No, I don't."

After a few seconds the lights went off, the door shut, and she was finally left alone. The only problem was, all that night she couldn't sleep, even though she wanted to, more than anything. Outside in the hallway she could hear bits and pieces of conversation, back and forth:

"...such a shame, her mother was such a pretty young thing..."

"...and no one even knew they had a daughter. No one ever saw her..."

"...any relatives or close friends? Surely someone..."

"...spoiled and ungrateful, a wretched child. No one wanted her..."

_Is that true?_ she wondered to herself. _Is it true that no one wanted me?_ _Am I really as wretched as they all say I am?_

And by the time she finally fell asleep, the early morning light had already started to creep into her bedroom.


End file.
